


All These Conversations End the Same

by AnxietyGrrl



Category: E.R.
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Humor, Marriage, Post-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxietyGrrl/pseuds/AnxietyGrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Neela get distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But Can You Dance To It?

She handed him the guitar and said, "Play me something."

"Oh, come on..."

"Go on! What, are you shy?"

"You don't want to hear--"

"Yes I do. Play me something."

She planted herself on a chair and crossed her arms.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. What do you want to hear?"

"I think you know."

"Ohhh, come on, I can't--"

"You _are_ shy! Here's a turn of events. I'm practically naked, and you're shy."

"I'm not--I don't remember all the chords, okay?"

"I don't believe you."

"I don't believe _you_. Who _are_ you?" he laughed.

"I'm your _muse_. Now don't be so bloody stubborn, and play my song."

"You want a happy one, a sad one, or an angry, bitter one?"

She frowned. "There's an angry one?"

"There are, like, five angry ones. Things were pretty rough for a while."

"I don't think I want to hear those."

"Yeah, me neither. I mean, I don't want you to. They all suck, anyway."

She watched him in silence for a while as he fiddled with the tuning. "Play the sad one," she said finally.

It was short, probably unfinished, two verses and a chorus. She had to lean forward to hear the words. He didn’t once look at her as he played, and he did trip over a chord or two.

When he was finished, she got up slowly, said, “Well,” and went to sit on the arm of his chair.

He set aside the guitar and looked up at her. “Well?”

She stroked her fingers over the back of his neck and leaned down for a long, soft kiss. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and transferred tiny drops of water onto his face and chest. “That...” she said, with a playful bump of her nose against his cheek, “was pretty bad, actually.”

He overplayed indignation with a grimace and a very non-threatening sort of growl, and dragged her onto his lap. “Oh yeah?”

“Afraid so.”

“Whose fault is that, _muse_?”

“I’m sorry,” she said through laughter as he nipped at her throat and collarbone. “But as a songwriter you make an excellent physician.”

“See if I ever let you request anything again.”

She shook her head to protest. “Oh, no. I’m only kidding, really. Just not that one.”

“That bad, huh? Guess it’s not going on the album,” he joked.

“Bin it,” she agreed, “definitely.”

“So, Dr. Pitchfork, did you hate the music or the lyrics or...?”

“It just...” She stilled, and when she looked him in the eyes her expression sobered. “I didn’t like it. It didn’t sound natural. I think...” she said softly, “Because you weren’t meant to be so sad.” His hands were under her robe now, holding her in place, and as she kissed him again, with more intensity this time, the pressure of his touch increased. “Maybe you can write a new song, now,” she suggested. “Maybe a happier one.”

“Maybe...” he said, his lips just brushing hers. He left the thought unfinished as the robe fell off her shoulders. “Maybe later...”  



	2. Baby, Let's Fly (Using Our Miles, Subject to Restricted Dates and Conditions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "The one where Ray and Neela try to pick a vacation destination, but get distracted instead."

“The beach isn’t really as fun for me as it used to be.”  
  
“Right, sorry.” She flicked at the touchscreen, a little wrinkle of concentration appearing above her nose. “What about the mountains, then? Colorado, maybe? I’ve never been, have you?”  
  
“What, like skiing?”  
  
“Yeah, like skiing. I haven’t been since university. I doubt our insurance covers extreme sports prostheses, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to try it.”  
  
“Do you remember back in, like...2005, I think? The guys and I went snowboarding up in Wausau.”  
  
“Vaguely.”  
  
“I almost asked you to come.”  
  
“You’re kidding. I would have said no.”  
  
“I know. That’s why ‘almost.’”  
  
“All right, so that’s a possible.” She tapped at the screen again. “Denver, Aspen--”  
  
“Aspen’s full of rich dicks. Boulder’s supposed to be cool.”  
  
She frowned. “Yeah, cool. As long as we both get pertussis boosters first.”  
  
“If you ended up yelling at some anti-vax nutjob on the street that would be like the best part of the trip. Hey, why don’t you check the NIH website and find out where we can go that’ll require the most injections, that’ll be fun.” He leaned over to look at the iPad. “Okay, if you’re going to add disease clusters to your vacation search criteria this whole process is going to take a lot longer.”   
  
“We  _could_...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We could go to London.”  
  
“Cool, let’s go to London. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”  
  
“But we might be expected to actually stay in Southall, and that is  _not_  happening. I suppose we could stop over for a few days and then go on to Paris...”  
  
“Awesome. That is a plan. I love when you speak French. Book it.”  
  
“But then we do only have a week, maybe we’d be better off sticking closer to home...”   
  
He dropped his head back onto the couch and rolled his neck in her direction. When she started tapping away again he reached over and grabbed the iPad out of her hands.  
  
“Excuse me! Ray!”  
  
He held it over his head, and she kneeled unsteadily on the cushion and stretched up both arms to snatch it back. He tugged on the hem of her nightshirt and gravity brought her down onto his lap with her prize, one corner of which landed hard onto his thigh. “ _Fuck_.”  
  
She sat back as he winced, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” He rubbed at the spot. “I’ve had worse bruises.”  
  
When she saw he was fine, she said, “I was talking to my iPad, actually.”  
  
“I’ll throw it across the room, I swear to god, Neela.”  
  
“Oh, fine.” She laid it gently onto the coffee table, out of his reach.  
  
“Why are you so stressed out about this, anyway? It’s a vacation. It’s supposed to be relaxing. That’s the whole point.”  
  
“Well I haven’t been on holiday in a really long time, and this is our first one together, and I want it to be--”  
  
“Perfect, and if you can’t plan it exactly right, then maybe we shouldn’t go at all, and you can have this hypothetical perfect vacation in your head and not have to deal with a potentially unsatisfying real world vacation, all without ever having to spend a week away from work.”  
  
“Nice. I want it to be nice. I don’t know  _what_  you’re on about.”  
  
“Neela, we could do six nights at the Doubletree in Lake Charles, I don’t care. It’d be nice just to spend the time with you. You know what I realized? I’ve never known you when you weren’t working. I’m not even sure you  _can_  go a full week without working.”  
  
“Of course I can.”  
  
“It’ll be like an experiment. Maybe I’ll write it up.”  
  
“Honestly, I don’t even know if I want to go away with you anymore...”  
  
“Do you even know  _how_  to relax?”  
  
“You’ve seen me relaxed!”  
  
“When?”  
  
“All the time! Constantly!”  
  
“Okay, prove it. Remind me what that looks like. You, relaxed.”  
  
“Fine. I’ll take that challenge.” She laid across the sofa on her back, extended her legs and rested her crossed ankles on his knee. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, and she clasped her hands genteelly over her ribcage. “See? Get ready for seven solid days of this action.”  
  
He laughed, slid one hand under her bare calves to gently lift her legs while he shifted his weight slightly. She uncrossed her ankles and he leaned forward until his hands were behind her knees. “I don’t know, I think you could do better.”  
  
“Really? Perhaps you ought to look closer.”  
  
“Perhaps.” She laughed as she started sliding forward, his hands travelling up her legs and her elbows pushing her along. Her nightshirt bunched up under her breasts.  
  
“Hm, I am a little more relaxed now...”  
  
“Yeah, it looks that way.”  
  
“Except that my pants are twisted up in some inconvenient places.”  
  
“Don’t worry about that, it’s a temporary issue.”  
  
She braced her left foot against the back of the couch, and her right against his biceps. Her toes curled around his sleeve as he kissed the inside of her knee.   
  
“You know, you’re right, it’s coming back to me now. I’ve definitely seen you relaxed like this before.”  
  
“Told you so.” The last syllable became a stuttered exhalation as she lifted her hips for his hands. A minute later her underwear was on the table next to the iPad.   
  
She scrunched her fingers in his short hair as he leaned down, and, just for a split second, wondered about the rates for the Doubletree in Lake Charles.


	3. Observations on the Evolution and Habits of the Domestic Platypus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rasgotra-Barnetts entertain an unexpected visitor from Chicago.

 

Ray cornered his wife in the hallway. “Are you ready for the most awkward dinner of your life?”

“It’ll be fine...” Neela glanced out into the living room, where their unexpected guest was seated upon their rather comfortable sofa as if it were constructed of plywood and concrete. He scanned the surroundings critically, and addressed the room more than the five year old girl lying prone in front of a book across the (also rather nice) expanse of carpet. “This is very… domestic,” he assessed.

Alice raised her head, tilting it to one side, and squinted at him. “It’s our house,” she explained, and turned back to her reading.

“I mean…” Neela frowned for a second, and then shook her head. “No, no of course, it’ll be fine. He’s harmless. Sweet, actually.” She looked up at her husband with widened eyes, pleading tolerance on her erstwhile mentor’s behalf. Skeptical Ray looked down at her with angled head and narrowed gaze.

“Sweet, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him into the kitchen. He followed, laughing, and stood beside her at the counter, where she was becoming frustrated with salad prep, her expanding profile putting her at an awkward distance from the work surface. There were lots of nice things about having a second child, but it wasn’t exactly ergonomic. He nudged her elbow and said, “I’ll do it.” Before she stepped away he hooked an arm around her middle and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. She looked over her shoulder to see if they were within the eyeline of the sofa. She poked him in the shoulder (‘Nice.’) and he shrugged innocently (‘What?’).

“Alice! Come help set the table, please.” As she laid down flatware and napkins, Alice periodically stole a glance at their visitor, as she’d been doing ever since Neela had extracted her from her booster seat this evening and she’d looked down the driveway and asked, “Mommy, who’s that strange man?” (She may not actually have said ‘strange.’ Neela’s memory may have added that later. Ray would certainly recount it that way in the future.)

Lucien had picked up Alice’s library book and was paging through it curiously. As he examined it, Neela found herself anxiously hoping he didn’t fail to notice she was reading well above grade level. He replaced the book on the carpet, taking care to leave it open to the page where Alice had left off. “If she’s interested in animals,” he said as he approached the dining table where she and Ray were laying down the usual components of spaghetti night, “I have some interesting primate studies on my tablet that--”

“That’s--” she started, even before Ray shot her a look, “Thank you, that won’t be necessary. I think we’ve got enough reading material.”

“What? I wanna see,” Alice said as Ray attempted to redirect her inquisitiveness by picking her up and sitting her in her chair. “Maybe after dinner,” he told her, the all purpose fully deniable anti-promise. He tucked a paper napkin into her collar.

Alice was already twirling noodles with her fork. “I like marsupials,” she announced. “My favorite’s platypuses.”

“Platypuses are monotremes,” Dubenko addressed her directly for the first time (other than a polite “Hello” and a disconcerting handshake when they’d greeted him on the porch). “Your place settings are very efficient,” he complimented her.

“It’s better if everything’s straight,” she said. He nodded.

Ray eyed his wife as he dished out spaghetti. (‘Wonder where she got that idea?’) She lifted her brow as she passed him the Parmesan cheese. (‘Well, she’s not wrong.’)

Ray addressed their guest. “So, Dr. Dubenko--”

“Please, we’re no longer in a professional hierarchy, you can call me Lucien.”

Ray did not know if he could. “Neela said you were at a conference at Tulane?”

Neela perked up. “I read the paper you presented, it was fascinating.”

“Yes, I’m sorry you couldn’t attend. I was surprised you weren’t invited. If you like I could speak to the committee about getting you on the list next year. If you start now you should be able to have something presentable by then.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her belly. “The next year is going to be a pretty busy one for us.” Ray tapped his fork on the edge of his plate (‘Just tell him you don’t want to.’) (‘I don’t want to insult him.’) “And my focus is much more on community health, these days.”

“Community health. Well.” She waited for the sting. All he said was, “I’m sure you’re an asset to the field,” and it actually sounded more like a genuine compliment than a backhanded one disapproving of her choices.

“She’s pretty awesome at it,” Ray confirmed.

“So I hope you’re not here to try and steal me away,” she joked. In the pause that followed, her gaze darted across the table between the two men. “...From my job.”

“That’s a good opportunity to discuss the other reason I’m here,” he said, seemingly relieved at being forced into a topic he hadn’t been sure how to broach. “The pasta is very good, by the way.”

A deadpan Ray said, “Thanks.”

“I’m on the board of directors of a biotech startup. A post-doc colleague of mine just left DARPA to found his own lab. It’s called NovaManix? You may not have heard of it yet. Terrible name, I know. Anyway, he’s still putting together his team, and while I’m not technically involved in recruiting, I took a look at your work over the last few years and there’s a position I think you might be a good fit for, if you have any interest.”

Neela spoke rapidly. “Oh, no, Lucien, I’m really very happy where I am.”

“I’m sorry, Neela, I should have been more clear; I didn’t mean you.”

Her face crinkled in confusion. Ray, brow equally furrowed, pointed his fork at Alice, who was trying to eat a meatball with a spoon. “Did you mean  _her_?”

“I was addressing you, Dr. Barnett.”

“Well,” said Neela, and turned to her husband, surprised but quite honestly chuffed. (‘Well!’) He stared blankly back at her. (‘What the fuck?’)

“Uhh. You can call me Ray.”

“Of course,” Dubenko agreed, then conspicuously avoided doing so.

“So… what kind of…uh, job?”

Neela jumped in eagerly. “Yes, tell us. What sort of lab?” Ray put a hand on her arm so she wouldn’t get up from the table to Google it.

“Advanced robotic prosthetics.”

“Robots are cool,” interjected Alice.

“Yes they are,” their guest concurred.

“Daddy’s kind of a robot.”

“Not really, Al.” He looked at Dubenko, still puzzled. “I’m not an engineer...”

“Oh, of course not,” Dubenko said quickly. He chuckled a little.

(‘“Of  _course_  not.”’) (‘Hear him out, will you?’)

“No, they’re taking a broader, multidisciplinary approach. Most of the R&D teams are fully staffed. What they need is a patient care facilitator.”

“Oh!” said Neela. “You could do that.”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Honey, underselling yourself is not the  _most_  successful interview strategy.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Dubenko assured them. “This is really more of a pre-interview.”

“How did this…? You  _barely_  know me.” He turned to Neela. “Did you...?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know anything about it.”

“I was going to be in the area. The reference was implicit. I trust Neela’s instincts.”

“You do?” she asked, then answered, “Of course you do.”

“Although I’ll admit at one time I was skeptical. When she first left Chicago I was certain she’d be back within six months.”

“Well,” said Ray, cheerfully lifting his glass. “Happy to disappoint you, I guess.”

Neela rolled her eyes. She turned to her daughter, who was politely wiping her face with her napkin and succeeding only in smearing tomato sauce over a wider area, and asked, “All finished, Al?” She got up and pulled Alice’s chair away from the table. “Let’s let Daddy and Lucien talk for a while.” She took some satisfaction in the air of mild panic that filled the space, and shot a parting glance at her husband. (‘Most awkward dinner of your life, indeed.’)

*  *  *

Neela was sitting up in bed reading the NovaManix prospectus on her iPad while Ray applied lotion to her upper arms.

“I’m not taking it,” he told her again.

“And I don’t understand why you won’t at least consider it.”

“You just said tonight, you’re happy where you are. I am too. Do you really want to move D.C.?”

“It’s not technically in D.C., it’s-- oh. I just got it. No-Va-Manix. Well, the NoVa bit, anyway. He’s right, it is a stupid name.”

“All biotech companies have stupid names. They ran out of good ones twenty years ago.”

“We could at least visit. Aren’t you flattered?”

“I guess.”

“Do you think you couldn’t get it? I think you could.”

“Yeah, maybe. Probably. Why are you my hype man all of a sudden?”

“I think it could be an exciting opportunity.”

“I think you’re just turned on by robots.”

“I think you’re deflecting.” She put down her tablet and grasped his hand. “What’s the real reason?”

He was quiet for a minute, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “The possibility of this should bother you. Pulling Al out of school. Leaving your job. Uprooting everything. You shouldn’t be excited about it.”

She stroked the back of his hand, and asked softly, “Why not?”

“Because.” His other hand drew slow circles on her back. “You already did that for me once.”

She squeezed his hand. “That turned out all right. I’d take that deal again.”

“You shouldn’t have to. It should be my turn next time. Why don’t you find an awesome new job in L.A. or Seattle or… Kalamazoo. And I’ll follow you there.”

“What if…” she proposed, “I used my fantastic networking skills and found an  _awesome_  job in D.C.?”

“Your networking skills have become impressive.”

“I do have a LinkedIn profile.”

He laughed into her hair. “I guess… we can think about it.” He hugged her around the middle and said, “We’re kind of on a deadline, though.”

“Don’t I know it.” She turned her head to kiss him, and he slid a hand upward and under the V of her nightgown. “Next week,” she said between kisses, “let’s go out on spaghetti night.”

 


End file.
